


prompt fill dumping ground

by pbandwhey



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baker/Barista, Fluff and Humor, High School, M/M, Parents, Soulmates, figure skater, i should clarify that those all apply to diff ficlets, not hockey players
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pbandwhey/pseuds/pbandwhey
Summary: prompt fills from Tumblr, pre-deletion. aus/prompts in the chapter titles.





	1. baby it's cold outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid likes spending his bye week in cold weather.

Sid likes spending his bye week in cold weather.

The guys give him shit for it, but as much as Sid likes warm weather and sunny beaches and swimming, he’s at home in the chill, skating on smooth ice and playing casual shinny outside with whoever will join him.

But right now, lying in bed, looking at the vacation pictures Geno’s sent him – lounging on a beach towel, lounging on a boat, lounging on a poolside lounge chair – Sid almost regrets his decision. It’s amazing that Geno hasn’t gotten himself sunburnt yet, and he’s too naturally pale to tan much, but the sight of him shirtless and relaxed, board shorts hanging low on his hips, makes Sid have to lick his lips and sit up a little straighter.

He’s feeling good, relaxed, slightly buzzed off the few beers he’d had with friends before shooing them out of his hotel room, so he shoots Geno a quick text.

_Looking good ;)_

It only takes Geno thirty seconds to respond. _You like so much, I think you owe me picture too._

Sid isn’t usually into taking risqué pictures on his phone, since the whole Cloud concept still terrifies him, but he’s feeling good and a little reckless, so he shucks off his shirt and then lies back on the pillows, holding his phone above him to get a quick shot of his chest, collarbones, and the bottom half of his face.

He sends it off before he can chicken out and delete it. _Like what you see?_

Instead of texting him back, Geno calls. Sid grins instinctually before answering on the second ring. “Hey, G.”

“You a tease, you know.”

Sid laughs into the phone. “How am I a tease? I sent you a picture like you wanted.”

He hears Geno sigh, heavy and put-upon. “Because I’m not there, can’t touch you like I want. Why you take lonely vacation in cold? Could’ve come with me, warm, let me look at you in swim shorts.”

Sid hums. “It is cold, here.” He drags his hand down, teasing himself a little through his sweatpants. “Maybe you could find a way to warm me up, long-distance?”

He hears something over the phone – fabric rustling. “Thought you didn’t like phone sex.”

“Well,” Sid says, slipping his hand into his boxers, gasping a little as he lightly squeezes himself. “I miss you.”

“Fuck, Sid.” There’s that rustling sound again, louder – Geno’s stripping. Sid smiles, smug.


	2. figure skaking au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geno groans. “Alex, I don’t want to go and watch the figure skating rounds. I want to go back to the dorms and sleep.”
> 
> “Don’t be a buzzkill, Zhenya!” Alex slings an arm over Geno’s shoulder, dragging him towards the rink where the figure skaters will compete. “You can’t sleep whenever we’re not playing. It’ll wreck your sleep schedule. And anyways, you’ve never watched Olympic figure skating. It’s something else, man.”

Geno groans. “Alex, I don’t want to go and watch the figure skating rounds. I want to go back to the dorms and sleep.”

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Zhenya!” Alex slings an arm over Geno’s shoulder, dragging him towards the rink where the figure skaters will compete. “You can’t sleep whenever we’re not playing. It’ll wreck your sleep schedule. And anyways, you’ve never watched Olympic figure skating. It’s something else, man.”

Geno sighs. It looks like he doesn’t have much of an option – he could try and make a break for it, but he knows Alex will blow up his phone and get revenge on him later. He reluctantly tags along, preparing for an hour of boredom and trying not to nap in the stands.

He and Alex manage to get good seats – they don’t ask anyone to move, but some Team Russia fans scoot over to accommodate them as soon as they realize who they are. Geno thanks them, making polite small talk until the in-arena announcers start in on their spiel.

They go through some of the rules, then a short history of the figure skating events, and a brief introduction of the skaters. It’s the men’s event, which Geno doesn’t mind. He’s bi, not that many people know that. He can admire most asses, and he knows enough about figure skaters to look forward to the spandex.

The Canadian skater comes first, face blown up on the Jumbotron, shyly waving to the crowd, and –

Fuck, Geno’s in love already.

Geno doesn’t know any figure skating terminology. If asked, he could only describe things as spins and jumps. But he recognizes enough to know that this guy – Sidney Crosby – is something special.

Also, he has one of the best asses Geno’s ever seen.

Crosby finishes his routine, bowing a little as a massive wave of applause rolls through the arena. Geno finds himself enthusiastically joining in, and Alex eyes him, amused.

“What happened to not wanting to watch figure skaters, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Geno tries to pay attention to the other competitors, but he’s completely distracted thinking about Sid. He and Alex leave in the middle – it’s approaching the end of the day and Geno’s just now realizing how starving he is.

He’s about to follow Alex out of the rink via the back hallways – he likes talking to fans, but right now he’s not really in the mood – before he sees Crosby hanging in the back, leaning against the wall in a sweatshirt and leggings. Alex doesn’t say anything, just shoots Geno a wink before he heads out on his own.

Geno’s trying to muster up the courage to approach him, but before he can, Crosby looks over. Geno sees him straighten up a little, eyes wide with what Geno hopes is recognition and not panic over a stranger seeing him.

“You – you’re Evgeni Malkin,” Crosby says, alleviating Geno’s fears.

“Yes,” Geno replies, feeling his heart jump. Crosby _knows who he is._ “I’m watch you skate, just now. You amazing.”

The flush that spreads across Crosby’s beautiful face is very attractive. “Thank you,” Crosby says, smiling bashfully. Geno can’t fathom why Sid is having this reaction to a simple compliment; there’s no way that Sid doesn’t receive praise every single minute. If he doesn’t, Geno thinks he would be more than happy to provide it.

Crosby takes a step closer, offering his hand for Geno to shake. “I’m Sidney. Uh, Sidney Crosby.”

“Sidney,” Geno breathes, grasping Sidney’s hand. He doesn’t quite shake it as much as hold it, but Sidney doesn’t seem to mind, judging by the firm grip he has on Geno’s hand. “Very nice to meet you, even if you skating for Canada.”

Sidney laughs, a surprised honk that’s objectively bizarre but Geno can’t help but be even more charmed. “Same to you,” Sidney says, eyes sparkling, “but you play for Russia.”

“Play for Pittsburgh too,” Geno objects. “North American, just like you.”

“I know.” Sidney finally lets go of Geno’s hand, and Geno misses the contact immediately. “I – I’m a big fan of the Penguins.”

Geno grins. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Sidney smiles back at him. “Big fan of you, too.”

“We be friends, then.” Geno pulls his phone out of his pocket, offering it to Sidney. “Can I have your number? We can talk about – skating.”

Sidney takes the phone, opening the Contacts app eagerly. “For sure,” he says, typing in his full name and cell number. Then he looks up, smirk on his face. “Skating, eh?”

Geno takes his phone back, making sure to let his fingers linger on Sidney’s. “Maybe other things, too,” he admits.

“Sounds good,” Sidney says. He makes like he’s about to turn away and head down the hall, but he hesitates at the last second, finally lifting up on his toes to press a quick kiss to Geno’s cheek. Geno’s shellshocked, putting his hand over it, feeling a little bit like an idiot but it’s worth it to see Sidney’s shy smile in response.

Figure skating fucking _rules._


	3. awkward referee roleplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid scoots up so that he’s sitting against the headboard, wearing his jersey and his most revealing leggings.
> 
> Geno calls out from the other side of the door. “Ready?”
> 
> “Yeah, go ahead and start.”

Sid scoots up so that he’s sitting against the headboard, wearing his jersey and his most revealing leggings.

Geno calls out from the other side of the door. “Ready?”

“Yeah, go ahead and start.”

The door swings open, and Geno walks in. He’s wearing a referee shirt he bought online, complete with the black pants. He leans on the doorframe, smug look on his face. “Crosby, you taking too many penalties.”

Sid immediately bursts out laughing.

Geno sputters, looking down at himself and tugging at the hem of his ridiculous striped shirt. “What? Outfit not right? What’s problem?”

Sid has to take a second before he’s calmed down enough to actually speak, still giggling as he manages to say, “No, no, it’s just – god, this is so much dumber than I thought.”

Geno scowls at him. “Is your idea.”

“I know, I know,” Sid says, wiping at his eyes. He feels bad for laughing, he really does, but yikes. Sid doesn’t know how he thought he could be into the whole “referee punishing him” scenario he dreamed up. His own fault for getting inspired by the old Flyers fan signs from back in his earlier years in the league.

Geno still looks offended, so Sid spreads his thighs to try and entice him closer. From the way Geno’s eyes drift down, it works a little, but he still doesn’t come over to the bed.

Sid whines. “Come on, Geno, I’m sorry. We can do whatever you want.” He pauses. “As long as it involves you taking that shirt off.”

Geno rolls his eyes, but pulls his shirt off in one swift motion. He throws it at Sid, getting him right in the face. Sid pulls it off in time to see Geno shuck his black pants before climbing onto the bed.

He hovers right above Sid, not quite low enough for Sid to kiss him comfortably. “So mean to me, tell me to dress up as ref then laugh at me. Maybe I leave you hanging.”

“Maybe I leave you hanging,” Sid mocks, utilizing his worst Russian accent. Then he hooks an elbow around Geno’s neck to kiss away his angry spluttering.

 _Maybe I leave you hanging._ As if. Sid would give him two minutes for interference if he tried.


	4. parking garage handjobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Geno,” Sid gasps. “Geno, wait.”
> 
> Geno groans, but stops kissing Sid’s neck, lifting his head. “What?”
> 
> “We’re in a parking garage.”

“Geno,” Sid gasps. “ _Geno,_ wait.”

Geno groans, but stops kissing Sid’s neck, lifting his head. “What?”

“We’re in a _parking garage._ ”

Geno rolls his eyes, impatient. “Light broken. Dark, in corner, in car. No one sees.” He presses Sid back into the inside of the car door, lifting a knee onto the backseat to better position himself for scraping his teeth over the join of Sid’s neck and shoulder.

Sid whimpers a little, but manages to keep his composure just enough to push at Geno’s shoulders. “I’m serious, Geno. This isn’t a go- _od_ place for this, _fuck_.” He bats at the stray hand creeping up the inside of his thighs. “Would you quit it?”

“You think is hot, Sid,” Geno says, grinning. “Don’t lie.”

Sid feels his face go red – he’s especially thankful for how dark it is in the car, now, because at least Geno probably can’t tell. “Shut up. I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You _do._ ”

“I _don’t –_ oh, shit,” Sid pants, letting his head fall back onto the cushioned seats. “Okay, yeah, maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean it’s smart.”

Geno shrugs, cupping his hands around Sid’s face, bringing him forward so Geno can kiss him again. “We not smart anyways,” he murmurs. He nips at Sid’s bottom lip, and Sid, despite being in his late twenties, had somehow managed to not realize that biting was something he was into until now. Sid clutches at Geno’s shoulders, unable to stop himself from kissing back.

Sid finally drags himself away, and _fuck,_ Geno’s mouth is swollen and dark and Sid’s mouth probably looks the same. “I thought you said our first time together would be ‘ _so romantic, Sid, gonna make best for you_.’”

“Is romantic enough.”

“Oh yeah?” Sid raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

Geno pauses for a beat. “We in a nice car?”

Sid can’t help but snort. “Uh-huh.”

“Okay, Sid.” Geno sighs and takes his hands off of Sid’s face, and Sid misses the contact immediately. “You don’t want, I’m understand, I’m stop—“

Sid shuts him up with another kiss. “Shut up. You know I want it anyways.”

Geno lets out a very heavy, very exaggerated sigh. “No, Sid, is fine. I get it, I’m have to romance you. I take you to fancy restaurant, we go home, I light candles and fire and feed you truffles and hold your hand –“

“Fuck you,” Sid says.

“ _Definitely_ have to wine and dine for that.”

Sid splutters angrily. “First of all, I didn’t mean it like that. Second of all, I prefer getting fucked. Third of all, just – get your fucking dick out already, _Christ,_ I’ve been waiting for years.”

Geno licks his lips, but he finally starts unbuckling his belt. “Years?”

Sid ducks his head, feeling way more bashful than he should be, considering the current situation. “I mean, yeah.”

“Hey, look at me.” Geno tilts Sid’s head up with one hand as he struggles to unbutton his jeans with the other. “It okay. I’m idiot, not realize I could have you sooner.”

“You are an idiot.” Sid smiles and starts helping Geno with the button, dragging his zipper down after. “But I guess I’m into that.”

Geno huffs, but he must not be too mad, since he drags his jeans and boxers down mid-thigh, enough to reveal his –

“ _Fuck._ ” Sid can only stare at it for a second. “I mean, I knew you were big, I’ve seen it before, but. God.”

Geno smirks. “Thought you not supposed to, ah. Say God’s name wrong?”

Sid manages to tear his eyes away from Geno’s dick to give Geno an incredulous look. “You mean take the Lord’s name in vain?”

“Yes, that.”

“Don’t talk about religion while I’m looking at your cock.”

Geno laughs. Sid grins at him before reaching out to finally touch, but Geno bats his hand away at the last second. Sid whines. “What now?”

“You selfish! Not even take your dick out yet.”

Oh. Sid had legitimately forgotten about that. He can’t forget about it _now,_ obviously, the single admonishment from Geno making all of the blood rush from Sid’s head to – well, his other head. Sid fumbles with his own pants, too impatient to drag his boxers down after his jeans, dragging his own normally medium sized, comparatively small sized cock out through the slit in his boxers.

Geno doesn’t seem to mind the size difference, judging by the impatient groan he lets out as soon as Sid’s dick is out. He lurches forward, getting one big callused hand on Sid before Sid has time to react.

It’s way too dry, and Geno’s squeezing too tight, but it feels fucking amazing anyways. Maybe it’s the desperation, how they couldn’t wait to drive home, or just the fact that it’s fucking _Geno,_ after God knows how many years of looking and wanting and pining, but whatever it is, it has Sid thrusting up and whisper-shouting Geno’s name.

Geno sits back against the seats, tugging Sid over by the thigh. It takes Sid a second to realize that Geno wants Sid to straddle him, and a second more to realize that Sid definitely wants that too. It’s a stretch – Geno’s thighs aren’t as big as Sid’s, but he has his legs spread wide; Sid might try to push them in if it weren’t for how fucking hot it made him.

Sid smears his own precome down to just barely slick his cock, hand joining Geno’s at the base. Geno takes his hand away, but thrusts up to rub the head of his cock against Sid’s. It rips a really embarrassing moan out of Sid’s throat, but Sid closes his mouth over Geno’s before Geno can laugh at him.

They both come too soon, spilling over their now-joined hands, and Sid twitches through it before finally slumping into Geno. He’s probably too heavy for this, but if Geno has any complaints, he doesn’t voice them.

The afterglow ends too soon when Sid realizes they’re still cramped up in the backseat of his car with drying come all over both of their shirts. He grimaces. “Shit, we’ve gotta drive home now.”

Geno laughs, kissing Sid on his temple. “We live. Worth it for shower and sleep.”

“Guess so,” Sid snorts. He looks sideways at Geno’s profile. “Do you, uh, want to stay over?”

“Yes,” Geno says. He smiles, small and soft. “You not kick me out, right?”

And Sid wants to joke back, tease Geno to hide how much he’s feeling, but he’s sick of hiding. “I don’t ever want to.”

 


	5. anxious parent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sid, try to relax.”

“Sid, try to relax.”

Sid inhales in, out. “Right, right, sorry.” He quits pacing and sits down on the couch next to Geno, but only stays still for a moment before he starts jiggling his leg. Geno rolls his eyes, slinging an arm around Sid’s shoulders, feeling the tension there ease just a little as he tugs him closer to his side.

Geno turns his head to press a kiss to Sid’s temple. “Elena is fine, Sid. Need to stop worrying so much.”

Sid shifts so that his cheek is pressed into Geno’s shoulder. “I _can’t_ ,” he whines. “It’s her first night away. I don’t know what she’s doing right now.”

Geno snorts. “Is sleepover, Sid. She probably watching movies, talking about boys with friends.”

“Oh my god, don’t start on that.”

Geno grins. “What, boys?”

“Yes, boys. You’re gonna have to handle that one, when the time comes. Boys are terrible.”

“If boys so terrible,” Geno says, threading his hand through Sid’s hair – he’ll forever be jealous of Sid’s hairline, but at least Sid’s started letting his hair grow out a little more – “then why you marry one?”

Geno can feel Sid smiling into the fabric of his shirtsleeve. “Canadian politeness. Would’ve felt bad saying no when you asked so nicely.”

“Show you polite,” Geno grumbles, leaning over to grab Sid’s waist and push him over until he’s laying on his back, spread along the couch cushions.

Their makeout session only lasts about thirty seconds, though. The phone rings, and Sid pushes Geno off so quickly that Geno lands on his ass on the floor.

Sid honest-to-god _runs_ to his phone, picking it up on the second ring. “Hello?”

He stays on a few seconds, then groans and hangs up, shooting Geno an apologetic look. “Uh. Spam call.”

“Oh my god.”

“It could’ve been Elena,” Sid says as he walks back to the couch. “An emergency or something.”

Geno sighs, heavy. “Sid, she going to be fine. With her friends, other parents watch, is fine.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Sid offers Geno a hand, and Geno takes it, getting up off the floor. He grunts a little – his knee’s never going to stop bothering him. It’s made a little better by Sid raising up on his toes and pressing a quick kiss to Geno’s lips. “I’m sorry for being annoying. I’ll make it up to you.”

Geno can’t be mad when Sid’s looking up through his eyelashes like that. “What you thinking?”

“Well,” Sid says, licking his lips, “since we have the house to ourselves, I was thinking we could, um.” He hesitates, and Geno wraps his arms around Sid’s waist – a little squishier now that they’re retired, but still fantastic. Geno lets one of his hands drift down to squeeze Sid’s ass, just to see Sid bite his lower lip.

“Tell me, Sid.”

Sid takes a moment to kiss Geno’s jawline before answering. “Remember when we used to use those handcuffs?”

That hits Geno like a train. “ _Sid._ ”

“I still have them.” Sid’s smirking – understandable, Geno knows he has an absolutely dumbstruck look on his face. “Unless you think we’re too old now, we can just do something simpler.”

Geno narrows his eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, when Sid’s hands are cuffed to the headboard and Geno’s three fingers deep in him, his cell phone rings.

Sid, who just moments before was squirming and moaning like he was auditioning for a porno, freezes. “Shit.”

Geno leans over to look at his cell on the nightstand, and – yup, it’s Elena.

He sighs, reaching over with his non-slick hand to answer.

He and Sid really need to start scheduling more date nights.


	6. baker and barista

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid and Geno have been dancing around each other for a while.

Sid and Geno have been dancing around each other for a while.

Geno makes Sid a cup of normal coffee with sugar and cream every morning when the shop opens, and Sid hands over a perfectly-formed pastry in return. Their coworkers always joke about how the way they flirt and tease each other is “appropriately sweet.” Geno usually groans at the joke, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t make the same comparison whenever Sid smiles at him.

His friends who work the coffee bar with him poke and prod about how he needs to just nut up and ask Sid out already, and Geno’s pretty sure the other bakers do the same to Sid.

But he’s not sure he wants to ask Sid out.

After all, they’ve been dating for months. It probably wouldn’t accomplish anything new.

***

Geno’s pretty sure he’ll never get tired of waking up in the morning with Sid’s ass pressed against his dick.

He kisses the back of Sid’s neck. “You awake, baby?”

Sid grumbles, turning in Geno’s arms so that they’re face-to-face. “Don’t call me _baby._ ”

“Mean,” Geno says, pecking Sid on the nose. “I’m want to call you sweet things.”

Sid wrinkles his nose. “I see enough sweet things at work, thank you very much.” He’s trying to look annoyed, but Geno can see the way his mouth is turning up at the edges. It’s helplessly endearing, and Geno _has_ to kiss Sid after that.

***

“So.”

Sid glances away from the dough he’s kneading to look sideways at Conor, who’s just sauntered up to the counter. “What?”

Conor grins. “You know how you’re working that dough?”

Sid looks back down. “What about it?”

“That’s how Geno wants to touch your ass.”

Sid elbows Conor, who’s cackling like he thinks he’s clever. “I miss when you were a new hire and too nervous to say shit like that.”

Conor’s still laughing. “I don’t.”

Sid rolls his eyes and goes back to kneading the dough.

If only Conor knew how right he was.

***

When Sid pulls away, lips buzzing after making out with Geno for – well, he doesn’t know exactly how long, but he knows it’s been a while – he’s reminded of what Conor said. Mostly because Geno’s hands have migrated down to Sid’s ass, not at all subtle.

Sid snorts, and Geno narrows his eyes at him. “What so funny?”

“Nothing, just – something Conor said.”

“What’s he say?”

Sid smiles, pushing back a little into Geno’s hands where they’re still cupped around his ass. “He said you wanted to knead my ass like bread dough.”

Geno just grins, a little filthy, before he tightens his fingers to squeeze the muscle even harder. “Smart guy.”

And Sid has to lean forward and kiss him more at that, open-mouthed and a little sloppy. Before Geno, Sid wasn’t a big fan of messy kissing – his previous boyfriends always dove right into it, and it felt like they were slobbering all over his face. But there’s something deliberate about Geno’s kissing. It isn’t just seemingly-random licking and sucking on Sid’s tongue – it’s the way he gently tugs at Sid’s lower lip, the way he just barely flicks his tongue into Sid’s mouth; it’s slick and warm without being overly, well, spitty.

He gets lost in it for a few more minutes before he remembers what he wanted to ask. Geno whines in protest when Sid pulls back again, and Sid feels more smug than he probably should about it. But he can’t let himself get distracted.

“Should we tell them?”

Geno’s still staring at Sid’s mouth. “Tell them what?”

“That we’re actually dating.”

Geno finally manages to look Sid in the eyes. “You want to tell?”

Sid shrugs with one shoulder. “I mean. Do you?”

Geno hums. “I’m happy if they know, but also fine if they don’t. Know you not so comfortable if people know your business.”

“I mean, yeah, I usually am.” Sid sits back, inadvertently putting more of his weight on Geno’s crotch, something he can feel Geno responding to. He manages to ignore it. “But I’d be okay if they knew about us. I don’t want to have to pretend like I don’t love you in front of them.”

He realizes when Geno’s eyes widen that they haven’t said the whole L-word thing to each other yet. “Love?”

Sid feels himself flush red, but he doesn’t want to backtrack, so he just nods.

“ _Sid,”_ Geno says, dropping his head forward to rest on Sid’s shoulder. “Love you too, so much.”

Sid can’t help the smile that comes over his face. Geno raises his hands to wrap his arms around Sid’s waist and pull him in close again, kissing up his neck as he does. “Love you, love you, love you—“

“Okay,” Sid laughs. “I get it. We’re in agreement.”

Geno sighs heavily, huffing out air against Sid’s jaw. “Not even let me be romantic.”

“Well,” Sid says. “Maybe you can be romantic tomorrow morning. Put our coworkers out of their misery.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Sid turns his head to nuzzle his nose in Geno’s messy hair. “I’m really sure.”

***

When Geno gives Sid a bouquet of flowers at work the next morning and announces it’s his and Sid’s five month anniversary, their friends sputter angrily at them. Geno will admit they probably deserve it.


	7. soulmates au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone meets their soulmate.
> 
> It’s supposed to be that you get your soulmate mark whenever you realize you love whoever your soulmate is, and that can take years if you even know them. Considering there’s billions of people on Earth, the probability of ever finding them is slim. Sid’s resigned himself to that fate.
> 
> Until one morning, when he wakes up with a mark on his wrist.

Not everyone meets their soulmate.

It’s supposed to be that you get your soulmate mark whenever you realize you love whoever your soulmate is, and that can take years _if_ you even know them. Considering there’s billions of people on Earth, the probability of ever finding them is slim. Sid’s resigned himself to that fate.

Until one morning, when he wakes up with a mark on his wrist.

He tries scrubbing it off in his bathroom sink, just to be sure, but it’s definitely a soulmate mark. It’s white, pale like a scar, small but clearly visible on his skin.

And, because life is a son of a bitch, it says _71._ Since Sid doesn’t remember ever falling in love with Larkin or any other 71 in the league, it can really only point to one person.

Sid groans, burying his face in his hands. _Fuck._ He knew he shouldn’t have drunk so much last night, but Geno had had that irresistible shine in his eyes as he passed Sid shot after shot, grinning with his tongue sticking out and looking at Sid like he was the most entertaining thing possible. Honestly, Sid probably should’ve suspected then that he’d be waking up with a mark – he’s never felt safer with anyone, especially when he was slumped against Geno in the taxi home, half dead to the world but still warm and content and fuzzy-feeling.

It’s only then that Sid realizes he’s in Geno’s house, in one of the guest bedrooms. He steps out of the bathroom, searching for his clothes on the floor. He’s gotten into his pants and a t-shirt when Geno opens the door, not bothering to knock.

Geno’s got a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, and he grins at Sid. “Surprise you already awake. Think you probably need this.”

“Uh, thanks,” Sid says, still rattled. He reaches his hands out for the glass and the bottle of pills, realizing too late that the soulmate mark is still clearly visible on the inside of his wrist.

Of course, Geno notices.

He drops the pills – but not the water, thankfully – and grabs at Sid’s wrist, keeping it up so he can look closer at it. Sid sees Geno’s eyes go wide.

“When you get?” Geno’s voice is low, almost a whisper, something Sid’s never heard from him.

“Last night, I think.” Sid lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Geno doesn’t say anything for a few terrifying seconds, and then Sid sees his shoulders start shaking. He looks up to see Geno laughing, little huffs of air that are almost silent.

“Um. What?”

Sid’s heart catches in his throat when Geno looks back at him, eyes shining like they were last night.

“You very slow, Sid.”

Sid frowns. “What do you mean, slow?”

Geno doesn’t say anything back. Instead, he leans down to put down the water and take off one of his socks, balancing on one leg to turn his ankle up and show Sid –

_87._

It fucking says _87._

“Geno,” Sid whispers.

“I’m get years ago,” Geno says. He lowers his foot and steps closer into Sid’s space, looming over him as he places a careful hand along Sid’s neck, stroking it slowly, once, with his thumb. “About time you catch up.”

“Oh.” The word escapes Sid on a sigh. Geno presses a kiss to Sid’s forehead, and Sid can’t repress the smile that crosses his face. He burrows his face into Geno’s chest – he wants to kiss him more than anything, but he’s a little overwhelmed and he needs a minute. If Geno has any complaints, he doesn’t voice them, pulling Sid in close and folding himself into him like he’s shielding him from anyone or anything else.

It feels safe again.


	8. high school au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid isn’t fond of gym class.

Sid isn’t fond of gym class.

It’s not that he’s out of shape; in fact, he likes being active, despite what the stereotypes about being a straight-A student might insinuate. The tennis unit is one of his favorite parts of any class, and he likes to skate with his little sister on the weekends.

What he doesn’t like are some of his classmates.

He’d gotten placed in one of the periods populated largely by jock-types, kids who don’t need gym class at all and are only there because it’s required for graduation. And, for as many anti-bullying and anti-bigotry and anti-whatever assemblies the school’s had, they really don’t do much good. Kids don’t throw around slurs, but there’s a certain culture involved in many sports, and casual homophobia is part of it.

Sid’s only come out to a few of his close friends – Jack, Marc, Kris – and not really anyone else. He’s considered joining the GSA club, but truthfully he isn’t very interested. He’s resigned himself to not dating any guys until he heads of to college. Not much of a hardship, really. Not very many people in the school fit his, admittedly, specific type.

Geno’s an exception.

They’re not friends – they’ve exchanged some friendly small-talk in the classes that they share, but Sid wouldn’t call them close. It’s the same polite crap he does with everyone.

But Geno’s nice, as far as he can tell. Genuine, funny, tall and unconventionally handsome. He’s the star of their school’s hockey team, the Fighting Penguins, and has a fierce love of the Pittsburgh Penguins mostly because of the shared mascot. Sid likes the Canadiens more – family obligation – but he’d be lying if he hadn’t developed a soft spot for Pittsburgh entirely because of Geno’s enthusiasm.

And anyways, the guy looks good in black and yellow.

Geno’s also in Sid’s gym class, where Sid gets a closer look at just how competitive he is. He throws himself into pushups like it’s his job. As far as Sid can tell, the only active thing Geno isn’t into is running. Sid doesn’t blame him. Running laps sucks.

Which is what’s on the agenda today. Sid sighs to himself, bracing himself for the familiar burn in his lungs.

They line up on the track in rows. Sid keeps to the back, since he hates starting out in the front, anxious even though he knows his classmates are too annoyed at having to run to pay attention to anyone in front of them. Aside from the track kids, a particular species of student that Sid doesn’t understand in the slightest.

“Race you?”

Sid turns to see Geno looking sideways at him, tongue poking teasingly. He hadn’t even noticed Geno lining up next to him.

But for all that Sid hates running, he also doesn’t like turning down a challenge. “You’re on.”

Geno’s eyes light up, looking pleasantly surprised. He shoots Sid one more grin before he faces forward again, bracing himself to start running.

The gym teacher blows the whistle, and everyone starts running. Sid’s immediately aware of the obvious advantage Geno has over him; he has longer legs and is obviously more athletic. Geno starts off ahead of him, but Sid’s able to keep up, a few meters behind him.

It stays like that pretty much the whole way around, even when they’ve both stopped to walk a few steps. They do finish ahead of most of their classmates, save for, of course, the track kids, who are anxiously pestering the gym teacher for their past times to compare to the current ones.

Sid’s relieved to see that Geno’s breathing as heavy as he is. Geno smirks at him anyways, but not meanly. “I’m win.”

“Whatever, it wasn’t exactly fair.” Sid says, grateful that his face is already red from running. It hides his flush. “You have the advantage.”

Geno gasps in mock-offense. “Excuse you. Is fair race. Even – uh, what’s phrase?”

“Even playing field?”

“Yes!” Geno snaps his fingers. “Even playing field.” He reaches out to tap Sid’s forehead. “Big brain of yours make up for your height.”

“Hey,” Sid protests. “I’m not that short.”

Geno grins, choosing that moment to stretch out one of his legs, a sight that Sid deliberately ignores. “Compared to me, you are.”

Sid rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Geno stops stretching, giving Sid a look that Sid can’t quite decipher. “Uh, so. I’m want to ask—“

He’s interrupted by the gym teacher ordering all of the students who haven’t finished their laps to head inside and get some water. Geno jumps a little, but turns to head inside before he’s able to finish his sentence.

Sid needs a few seconds to stand there before he goes in. What was Geno about to ask?

Geno’s locker is only a few rows away from his, and Sid can’t help but notice how Geno keeps glancing his way, casting his eyes away whenever Sid catches him in the act. He lingers longer than he normally would, not heading out with his other jock friends like he normally would.

He stops Sid before Sid heads out into the hallway. “You have a minute?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Sid says, adjusting his backpack straps. “What’s up?”

Geno almost looks – nervous. Sid can’t fathom why. “You good at history, right?”

Sid wonders how Geno knew that. “Well, yeah, I’m pretty good, I guess. Why?”

Geno rubs the back of his neck. “I have little bit trouble in class – World War Two more difficult than I’m realize.” He looks Sid in the eye, still looking apprehensive. “Was wondering if you could, uh, help?”

“Oh.” Sid isn’t really into study-buddy sessions, or tutoring, but – it’s Geno. Sid would kick himself if he turned down the opportunity to hang out with him. “For sure, yeah.”

Geno brightens up. “Good!” He hesitates again, and… is he blushing? “Maybe we, ah, go out, get coffee? Whenever you free, of course.”

Sid doesn’t let himself get too hopeful at that. There’s no way Geno means _go out_ like, y’know, _going out._ “That sounds nice. I mean, uh, good.”

“Cool,” Geno breathes out like he’s relieved. “We swap numbers?”

Sid digs his phone out of his pocket, handing it over for Geno to plug in his number. He snorts when he sees the Russian flag emoji next to Geno’s name. “Nice.”

He puts his own number into Geno’s phone once Geno manages to dig it out of his very unorganized backpack. Geno makes a face when he sees Sid looking. “Shut up.”

Sid grins. “Didn’t say anything.”

The bell rings, surprising them both. Sid had totally forgotten where they were, which is kind of embarrassing. “I’ve gotta go, but, uh. Text me whenever you’re free?”

“Yes,” says Geno, looking pleased. “See you later, Sid.”

Sid’s just arrived at his next class, about three minutes later, before he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He’s probably a little too eager to unlock it once he sees it’s from Geno.

 _I’m maybe lie a little bit,_ the text says.

Sid furrows his eyebrows before sending back a single question mark. The three dots pop up immediately, appearing and disappearing a few times before Geno finally responds.

_Wanted to ask you out. Also want history help, you’re smartest, but if you want, maybe we try date, too?_

Sid is immediately grateful that he sits in the back row, so less people see the smile he can feel spreading across his face. _Really?_

The response is, again, immediate. _Not have to say yes, if you don’t want. Won’t be upset._

A few seconds later, another text comes in. _Maybe little bit sad, but won’t be mean._

Sid figures it’s cruel to leave Geno hanging. With anyone else he might be suspicious, but Geno wouldn’t dick around with him like that. _I’d like that._

Geno fills up a few rows with parentheses – Sid knows that they’re supposed to denote smiley faces. He tucks his phone away in his pocket so the teacher doesn’t reprimand him, but not before sending back a single parenthesis himself.


	9. high school au part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first date is at a coffee shop.

Their first date is at a coffee shop.

Geno gets there first, snagging a little booth in the back. He pulls Sid’s chair out for him when he arrives, and Sid honestly can’t tell if he’s teasing him or seriously trying to be a gentleman.

Sid means to talk to him about history, he really does, but that conversation falls to the wayside after about five minutes when Geno starts in on a story about his brother. Their coffee ends up going cold, Sid going on about Taylor and his parents and skating and colleges and Geno going on about the Penguins and hockey and how the Canadiens suck. They don’t notice the counter clerks’ pointed glares until much, much later, at which point Sid and Geno both leave, sheepishly leaving a big tip in the jar.

They don’t kiss, then, but Geno wraps Sid up in an unexpected hug before they part. “Wanted to hold you,” he says when they separate, uncharacteristically shy.

For their second date, Geno picks Sid up at his house, already late enough that the sun’s almost entirely set. Geno won’t tell Sid exactly where they’re going, and Sid’s stomach twists a little with anticipation.

Geno drives them down a dirt road and out to a clearing, surrounded by dense woods and totally quiet. The night sky is totally clear, and Geno hops out of his car, grabbing an armful of blankets and a couple of thermoses from the backseat.

He spreads the blankets on the ground and motions for Sid to sit down next to him, pulling up another blanket to cover them both. The thermoses are full of borscht, sour and hearty and delicious. Sid curls up into Geno, and Geno lets out a pleased hum as they both lay back on the ground, gazing at the stars in the sky above them.

“This is really nice,” Sid says, maybe a little drowsy. He’s just so warm and relaxed – Geno runs hot and the blanket is so _soft_ – and Geno chuckles at him a little.

“Glad you like,” Geno says. “I’m little bit nervous about it, you know.”

“Nervous?” Sid turns on his side to look at Geno, a little incredulous. “How could you have been nervous? I’m not exactly intimidating.”

Geno smiles at him, turning on his side as well, faces so close that their noses are almost touching and Sid can feel Geno’s breath ghosting against his face when he speaks. It smells minty, not like the soup, and Sid realizes Geno must’ve brought mints to eat when Sid wasn’t looking. He bites back a grin – Geno’s really obvious.

“I’m see you lots, in class, in library,” Geno says, brushing one of Sid’s errant curls off of his forehead. “You always so cute, concentrate so hard. Cutest and smartest I’m ever see.”

Sid ducks his gaze, a little embarrassed. “I’m surprised you noticed me.”

“Always notice you, Sid.”

“Then, uh, why didn’t you—“ Sid shakes his head before he finishes his sentence. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, I’m say.” Geno looks determined, if a little bashful. “Just – I know you so smart, and my English not so great, sometimes. Think you too smart for me.”

Sid reaches out to lay his hand on Geno’s chest. “Are you kidding me? You’re so smart, Geno. You know two languages, and you’re good in class even though you’re so dedicated to hockey on the side, and you just – you’re great.”

Geno puts his hand over Sid’s.

Sid isn’t sure who leaned in first, but before he can even really think, Geno’s lips are moving soft against his, raising himself on his elbows so that he can hover over Sid instead of craning his neck. Sid tries to give as good as he’s getting, but he’s never kissed anyone before and he’s so distracted by how ridiculously good it feels.

Geno breaks it off after a few moments, too soon for Sid’s taste. “Okay?”

Sid licks his lips and sees Geno track the movement. “Well,” Sid says, putting one hand on Geno’s neck and brushing the soft hairs at the nape with his fingertips, “aside from you stopping, I’m more than okay.”

“Greedy,” Geno murmurs, leaning down just enough that their noses are touching. “What I’m do with you?”

“More kissing would be a good start.”

Geno obliges. It’s worth the glares Sid’s dad shoots Geno from the other side of the front door when Geno brings Sid home, apologizing profusely for keeping Sid out past curfew. His dad isn’t completely merciless, though, conveniently turning his head away when Sid goes up on his toes to kiss Geno goodnight.

His mom smiles fondly at him before he heads up the stairs to his bedroom. “Good date?”

Sid blushes. “Yeah. It was.”

 


	10. anonymous cheesecakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the third week in a row, Sid finds a cheesecake on his front stoop.

For the third week in a row, Sid finds a cheesecake on his front stoop.

He has absolutely no idea who’s been leaving them there. He could try and narrow it down to the list of people who have his gate code, but that still includes a lot of people; almost all of his teammates and most of the management, along with his non-hockey-related friends and his family. The cheesecakes don’t look like they’re from a delivery service, either.

The only clue he has is the name of the bakery. The cakeboxes are pretty elegantly decorated, and while he’s never been able to find a pricing sticker on any of the boxes, he’d be willing to wager that they’re on the expensive side.

Sid made the mistake of mentioning the cakes to the team, and now has to face near-constant jokes about his secret admirer “being sweet on him.” If the pun didn’t make him want to throw up enough, the guys insinuating that Sid eats an entire cheesecake every few days does. Sid likes cheesecake, but. Not that much.

Geno in particular seems to delight in the whole ordeal, always teasing Sid about the cakes and asking if he’d liked the bi-weekly delivery. Sid always rolls his eyes and pushes Geno away, which just serves to make Geno laugh even harder.

By the third week of cakes, Sid’s had enough of it.

The cakes are always delivered when Sid’s out of the house; Sid’s never been able to catch whoever it is in the act. But he has noticed the sell-by dates. All of the cakes seem pretty fresh.

Sid checks the bakery hours and drives out early in the morning, right before they open. If he’s guessed their schedule correctly, whoever’s buying him cakes should be buying a new one today.

He waits in his car for nearly an hour, watching the scarce early morning crowd filtering in and out. Sid doesn’t recognize anyone going in, nor does he see anyone toting out large cakeboxes.

Before he gives up and puts his keys in the ignition, though, his eyes are drawn to one particularly tall person walking to the door. They’ve got a beanie pulled down over their head, but Sid would recognize Geno’s frame just about anywhere.

_Huh._

At practice, Sid watches Geno as surreptiously as he can for any signs of – well, anything different. He isn’t quite sure what he should be looking for. Sid assumes at first that it’s a prank, but if that’s the case, it’s kind of uncreative, and Sid has no idea what the endgame is supposed to be. Is the prank that Geno gets to keep teasing him about desserts? If so, it’s not very good.

When practice ends, Sid makes sure to mention that he’s planning on going to the grocery store before he heads home. He isn’t, but the point is that Geno’s sitting within earshot when he says it. Sid doesn’t think he’s imagining how Geno hesitates for a second while he’s shrugging his coat on.

Sid rushes to get to his car before Geno’s even made it to the parking lot, rushing home and parking in his garage, closing the door so no one can see his car inside. Then, he waits, sitting in the chair next to one of the windows at the front of his house.

Just a few minutes later, Geno pulls into his driveway and hops out of his car. Sure enough, he’s holding a cakebox.

Sid opens the door when he hears Geno stepping up to the door. The look of surprise on Geno’s face is, admittedly, pretty sweet.

“Sid!” Geno exclaims, trying and failing to hide the box behind his back. “You – home.”

“Yeah.” Sid motions to him. “You can stop trying to hide the box, I know it’s been you.”

Geno looks sheepish, shifting the box back so he’s holding it in front of him. “How you know?”

“Because you showed up thirty seconds ago with a cakebox in your hands, Geno.” Sid narrows his eyes at him. “You gonna tell me why you’ve been leaving cakes at my front door for the past month?”

“Is not just cake, is cheesecake—“

“Stop stalling, Geno.”

It’s cold out, so Sid ushers Geno inside when he doesn’t respond right away. Geno walks to the dining room table and puts the box there, then straightens it out like he really expects Sid to believe how the cakebox is oriented on his table.

Finally, Geno turns to look at him. “Just – I’m know you stressed, lately.”

Sid wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

Geno shrugs. “You having point drought, lots of pressure, just – I don’t know. And I’m think, Sid likes cheesecake, maybe this make him feel better.” He shakes his head, looking down at his feet. “Sorry, was stupid idea, not know what I’m thinking.”

“Oh.” That’s – thoughtful of him. Weirdly thoughtful. Like, uncharacteristic-even-for-Geno thoughtful. “I mean, it was nice.”

Geno smiles at him, a little sadly. “Will stop, don’t worry.”

And Sid looks back at him, how Geno’s slouched over like a scolded puppy, and, well. Sid would be lying if he hadn’t had thoughts about Geno before. He’s never acted, because he never thought Geno was even an option, but after this whole cheesecake thing –

Sid clears his throat. “I mean, it was kind of a lot to eat by myself.” He takes a step forward and puts his hand on Geno’s arm. “You could maybe come over later and help, eh? Y’know, if you wanted.”

Geno stares at Sid for a moment before a slow grin spreads across his face. “You want that?”

“Yeah,” Sid says. “I do.”

Geno’s grin twists up at the ends, smirking like he hadn’t been caught leaving _anonymous cheesecakes_ at Sid’s door, like, a minute earlier. “Okay,” he says. “I come over for dinner, then.” He winks. “Don’t ruin appetite, I’m know if you start eating cake too early.

Sid licks his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you.”

He discovers later that night that cake is a lot more fun to eat with company.

 


	11. hat trick blowjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe you were right.”

“I can’t believe you were right.”

Geno snorts at Sid’s affronted, stunned face – it’s cute as hell, but still funny – and tips his bottle back to finish off his second beer. It was a fun game to watch live – five to two wins usually are – but he’s happy to be back in his living room.

He and Sid had been going to Penguins games together for a couple years now. They’d managed to become close friends despite how many arguments they had about line combinations during practice for their beer league.

Anyways, somewhere between learning Sid could skate like a god and their tenth Penguins game together, Geno’d gone and started crushing on him. Whoops.

He’s been dealing with it, though. No matter how hard it is to keep himself from staring when Sid’s hazel eyes light up during a heated argument, or how his sweat-damp curls peek out from under his helmet, he manages. Somewhat.

That composure doesn’t do him much good, however, when Sid drops to his knees and pushes his way between Geno’s spread legs.

Geno freezes, empty bottle dropping onto the couch as his fingers go lax. “Uh.”

“You, uh.” Sid licks his lips – one of his nervous tics. “You won the bet.”

It takes Geno’s brain a few seconds to process that, but then he remembers joking with Sid while they were waiting for warmups to start.

_“I bet Rust gets hat trick.”_

_“If Rust gets a hat trick, I will literally suck your dick._ ”

“Not – not have to,” Geno says, stuttering when Sid puts his hands on Geno’s knees. “Was joke, I’m not expect you to actually do.”

Sid’s hands skirt up a little farther. “No, I – I don’t like not filling bets. It’s, uh, a thing.”

And Geno’s more than familiar with how Sid gets about his _things,_ how he has to wear 87 and wear the same old jock and the same gross hat and eat the same sandwich before every game, but he’s never heard of Sid’s filling-bets thing.

When Geno says that, Sid bites his lower lip and averts his eyes. “If you really don’t want it, I won’t, but, um. I really just – I want to suck your dick, okay? It’s gonna bug me if I don’t.”

That’s definitely not a series of sentences Geno had ever expected to hear from – well, anyone, really, but when Sid looks back up at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Geno can’t do much but nod and let his head fall back onto the couch cushions. He feels Sid’s fingers scrabble against his waistband as he fumbles to get Geno’s belt off, and Geno tries to think about the last time the Flyers shut out the Penguins to keep himself from getting hard too obviously fast.

He’s trying to not be obvious while Sid’s about to suck his dick. Christ.

Sid finally gets the belt buckle off, making quick work of Geno’s top button and fly, and Geno manages to lift his hips enough for Sid to yank his jeans down mid-thigh. And apparently Sid’s very impatient, since he leans forward and starts mouthing at Geno’s already-mostly-hard cock through the fabric of his boxers.

“Oh,” Geno breathes, clenching his hands where they’re planted on the edge of the couch cushions. “Oh, _fuck,_ Sid.”

Sid hums and rubs his cheek against Geno’s boxers before leaning up even more and _pulling the waistband down with his teeth._

“Where the _fuck_ you learn that?”

Sid grins around his mouthful of fabric, but lets go and uses his hands to pull Geno’s boxers down the rest of the way. “I don’t suck and tell.”

Geno groans. “That terrible. Mood killer.”

Judging by the way Sid smirks before getting his hand on Geno’s bare dick, he’s called Geno’s bluff on that one. Geno groans again, for a different reason this time, and tangles his fingers in Sid’s curls. He’s careful not to apply any pressure, but Sid moans anyways and tips Geno’s cock back so he can start sucking on the head.

It becomes very clear very quickly that Sid is very good at this. Geno’s hips shift uselessly as Sid keeps bobbing his head, moving further down each time until he’s got the tip nudging against the back of his throat. He stays there, swallows around Geno’s cock, and then comes up and gasps for air. His lips are red and wet and _fuck,_ Geno has to look away.

He closes his eyes when Sid licks him from base to tip, repeating the motion again and finishing it with a flick over Geno’s slit. Geno’s pretty sure he’s never been this turned on in his life, save for maybe his first time. Even this feels like a first, like every blowjob he’s ever gotten has been in preparation for this moment. He may be biased – pining does wonders for one’s libido – but Sid sucking his dick is better than the best sex Geno’s ever had.

His balls start tightening as Sid sucks Geno’s dick back down and hollows his cheeks. Geno tugs at Sid’s curls, a little too hard, but Sid just moans around his cock and sucks even harder. Geno goes from _close_ to _there_ in the span of milliseconds, and makes a truly embarrassing noise as he comes in Sid’s mouth.

Sid sits back on his heels and swallows nearly all of it, licking up the single drop that leaks out from the corner of his mouth. Geno can’t do anything but sit and stare, mouth hanging open uselessly.

“So, um.” Sid’s voice is a little raspy. “Was that good?”

Geno stares at him for a few moments before he reaches forward to grab Sid’s elbow and tug him in, close enough to kiss his too-red lips. He’d be worried about making the wrong move if Sid didn’t kiss back immediately, scrambling into Geno’s lap and rocking back and forth on Geno’s thigh.

He breaks off long enough to manage to say, “You want this before?”

Sid huffs out a laugh. “Shut up.”

Geno starts grinning. “What, you pay off Sharks so Rust gets hat trick? Want to suck my dick so bad?”

“I said _shut up,_ ” Sid whines. “I sucked your dick. You have to be nice.”

Geno runs his hand down from Sid’s elbow to press along the hard outline of his cock on the inside of his thigh. “Can be nice.”

Sid’s eyes flutter shut and he bites his lip.

Definitely not a nervous tic this time.

 


End file.
